


Wrong

by WeirdAndCallous



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 14:39:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10766304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeirdAndCallous/pseuds/WeirdAndCallous
Summary: First time writing a summary... Written a long time ago for seeker_kinkmeme - prompt Cara/Richard - guilty sex.Implied R/C and C/K. Also, sadly unbeta-ed! Sorry for all the mistakes.





	Wrong

They both know how wrong it is, but it doesn’t change how right this feels, their bodies tightly pressed together, all in the right places, Richard’s hard on desperately rubbing against her groin and Cara’s hips thrusting to deepen contact.

  
They both know how this is about Kahlan, and how wrong it is (how it would hurt her - "I consider you as my friend" – "I love you" – how she would feel betrayed), but Richard’s hands are fumbling under Cara’s leather. There are no gentle kisses or touches, but only the raw, primal need, because, then, maybe, it’s not as much a betrayal of his love if it’s pure desire, hurting, slamming Cara’s back against the trunk, no eye contact, but her legs wrapped above his hips, and he is fucking her, while she does not bite his neck, because Kahlan would see the mark.

  
It’s after one of these everyday fights with banelings, nothing far different from other days, Richard and Kahlan fighting side by side, Cara proving once more her value to everybody (and herself) by killing off more banelings than anyone else. And then, when the heat of the battle is gone, there is this other heat, Richard who cannot take his eyes off Kahlan for a bit too long, and Cara, who is Cara, flush, excited, hungry after a good fight. (And the Mother Confessor and her Wizard departing for few hours, needed in a small village, while Cara stays with her Lord Rahl).

  
So they are here, still almost dressed, and Richard fucking her against a tree, feeding his desire on her full, red, lips, in the wetness he feels between her tights, welcoming him, in the toned muscles holding him. Cara feels the exhilaration from approaching release, the waves of pleasure, and she knows it’s wrong, but he is her Lord Rahl (isn’t he? Is it not enough? somewhere she knows that it was enough for Darken, but not for Richard), but he plunges deeper in her, and she moans against his neck. There is no word between them, and the only noises are the clasps of their bodies, fighting, meeting, colliding. Feeling her writhing against him, trying to maximize every contact, because she needs him deeper, harder, he buries his desire in her, trying not to see that she wears red and not flowing white.  
Richard grunts, and she digs her nails in his shoulder. When her walls clenches, dripping, around him, and that they come, they are panting, satisfied, relieved from the need, and both are eyes wide shut, as if they could ignore evidences of their guilt, thinking of Kahlan.


End file.
